Childhood trauma

May 6th, 2017

This is something I think about often, but can’t seem to remember much of my life prior to kindergarten. The first day kindergarten is vivid. I was holding my mom’s hand walking into the kindergarten. I was terrified! During play time I quickly ran behind the bushes to hide. Day after day I hid behind those bushes watching all the kids have so much fun. It was the swing that particularly caught my attention. It seemed like soooo much fun. One day when nobody was there I quickly ran out from behind  the bushes and went on the swing. I was hooked and went there every day during play time.

Then came first grade, when school life became a nightmare. This older big kid didn’t like me. Maybe I was too shy for his liking. He made me frightened that I wouldn’t even ask the teacher permission to go to the bathroom. For three years my life was like worse than the worse horror movie for me. Trying to hold from peeing my pants was so painful. Many times I soaked my pants in school, but I was not going to go outside by myself. Every day, every second during playtime I stood next to the lady who watched over the children, almost holding on to her all the time. Those years were so terrifying to me.

As if school was bad enough, there was a kid on our block, much older and bigger than me. He terrorized me something awful, physically and emotionally. The things he said to me were so frightening that I remember what seemed like years where I would not sleep at all except for what seemed like maybe a few hours at most. I would just sit up in my bed staring staring staring at the door waiting for the monster to capture me. The monster that the bad kid said was going to get me.

The bullying continued on to every year in school. It was I think 5th grade, mr escalante, a very tall and big man. A man who destroyed what left there was of me. Every single day, through out the day, he would teas me in school in front of everyone. Saying things like, “Hey Paul. What time is it, Paul. What’s today.” And every time the entire class would stare at me laughing. He would pick me up and throw me on his shoulders carrying me around. One time he told the class to follow him. He carried me outside through the buildings and across the street. He was a big intimidating man. Time after time he took me outside alone where he would get very angry at me. He hated me because I was a daydream. Well I daydreamed to escape horrible people like you!!!! So while outside he would slam me against the brick wall. Sometimes grabbing me by the throat and lifting me off the ground. Numerous times he would press so hard on my chest that I would almost black out. One time I saw the world closing in as the blackness almost became a small dot, almost blacking out. And his face, the expression on his face was frightening. Such rage in his face.

Life became worse year after year. People picked up on my fear and bullied me even more. On our block at home were about a dozen kids. They too would be tease me. Not every day, but some days it got so bad. It’s like they got therapeutic help bullying me. They even broke my bedroom window one day.

High school was no better, and in fact was worse. I joined the tennis team. They used to tease and  laugh at me all the time about anything, my bad haircuts that my mom gave me, my cloths. They used to make fun of the black and blue under my eyes because I didn’t get much sleep. I remember one time the entire tennis team was making fun of me so much on the bus that it seemed like everyone was yelling at me. And the coach, he just sat there quiet, staring at me like as if to say this will help strengthen you.

I quiet the tennis team and spent the next 3 years trying to stay away from people, which has been my path ever since. Even to this day, age 52, when ever someone touches me it’s as if they stabbed me. Even sitting next to someone in the front seat of a car is a very uneasy feeling.

Nowadays I often ponder if something bad happened to me as a baby. My older brother, about 8 years older, was a nightmare. Everyone in the family said he was very ornery as a child. He tortured me endlessly. Hanging me upside down, etc. etc. My sister often talks about the day she brought home a boyfriend, where my brother got a baseball bat and smashed it on him. So I just have to wonder if my brother tortured me something horribly as a baby, because even my first day of kindergarten I was absolutely terrified of people.


  1. Turtle_rider says

    So sad to hear that. I ever been bullied too, but not as long as you and it had driven me crazy.

    Please hang on

    May 9th, 2017 | #

  2. unreality says

    Thank you! Stay strong as well.

    May 9th, 2017 | #

  3. Selena50 says

    I, too, cannot remember much prior to kindergarten. I’m the oldest at 50 now, so no siblings abused me. I’m starting to wonder about my mother, though. I was physically/verbally/mentally abused by my father during childhood, but can’t specifically remember anything about my mother, other than she had schizophrenia or some personality disorder and I can remember her displaying symptoms of this disorder after kindergarten. I remember wetting the bed until I was 8 years old, but don’t really know why. My first day of kindergarten was horrifying to me. I remember my mother just dropping me off and leaving me there. Maybe I thought she was going to be there too, IDK, but when I saw she was gone, I went running outta the classroom and was trying to get the door to the outside open to go back home, but my mother was on the other side “holding that door,” so I could not escape. Soon, the teacher grabbed me and smacked me in the ass for leaving the classroom. I remember how much I cried cuz I didn’t wanna be there for whatever reason.

    October 5th, 2017 | #

  4. Gil mahoney says

    I have been writing a book about this sort of thing- extract ( i hope this is permissible.hether you choose to send you child to school or whether you have no option, there are of course lots of reasons why school is not a good idea, and is not providing what I think it should in the way it should.
    This book is about all the numerous reasons why it fails- in my opinion, and all the reasons too why if you can or will its better to teach them at home.
    I accept there are many people who are not in a position to home educate, and there are many more who chose to send their children to school having full faith that it is the best thing for them. These people I would like to communicate with, and of course the establishment with a view to them ‘moving on’ as I describe it. Modernising, relaxing, shortening school hours. Eliminating homework, and even exams. I go into why I think the long hours are not good. I home educated and we did three hours a day and my children were ahead of their school counterparts in all subjects. So in other words shortening school hours would in my opinion be beneficial.
    I think that the system has stuck since the end of the Victorian period when it was the best plan to have children educated and therefore provided school ( I might add) for those who could not afford to educate at home possibly via a tutor or governess. But school was then not necessarily the first choice, whereas now for the majority of parents it is, it becomes just a question of ‘which’ school and they will even move house to be near to the school of their choice.
    Unlike me they seem to look forward to the day their children go to school, and encourage the child to do the same.
    In the end parents will not go against what they want or have to do, and this is quite right, because a none willing parent teaching at home would be a very bad teacher not to mention parent. So you must want to do it.
    You might ask well where is the point in writing this book? To which I reply. Perhaps in the hope that some capable and available parents might have the courage to home educate, and feel there is ammunition to put up the fights they might encounter with authorities or relatives – even friends.
    You have to be prepared to face opposition and therefore be strong. I didn’t want to bore you with accounts of ‘how I home educated as I am sure there are plenty already on that subject. Here and there I have described methods etc but it was not to be a priority.

    June 19th, 2018 | #

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